Nights Without House Parties
by Backroads
Summary: Stoick is hunting for the dragon nest. Hiccup is going through two versions of dragon training and spending his nights by himself.  Just what is it like being home alone?  A series of incidents and thoughts of a variety of genres.
1. Training

_This will be a sequence of events that take place during the dragon training section of the movie. I'll be hitting different thoughts, throwing in some incidents, etc. I'm happy to consider suggestions of things to happen while Hiccup is home alone at night._

* * *

**Night One: "Train Hard"**

Dragon training. The two little words echoed in Hiccup's head long after his dad had shut the door. The dragon training in which he had been begging for months now to participate was now being forced upon him. He felt dizzy and sick and completely stupid. And rather inclined to curse fate. Only fate would have his father deciding to have him fight dragons at the same time he realized he was completely incapable of it. Only fate was that sick. Indeed, the gods hated him. That's what today was. Let's torment Hiccup Day. Have him cause a disaster, hide the dragon he shot down, prove to him he couldn't kill a dragon, and inspire his father to make him do so.

Hiccup shouldn't have agreed. The moment he said "deal" he had doomed itself. His father was pretty serious when it came to deals, always had been. But he had forced Hiccup to say that one horrible word and now Hiccup was locked into a bind. Tomorrow, he would get up and instead of going to the blacksmith stall he would be heading to the ring where he would learn how to kill dragons he couldn't handle killing. And everyone would be there and they would laugh at him and make fun of him and he frankly would rather just be slowly eaten by Terrible Terrors or even Nanodragons.

He considered heading upstairs, his plan before the entire dragon training conversation had tragically happened. What had he been planning on doing up there? Crawling into bed to act like nothing had happened, like he had never left the house, forcing him self to go to sleep so he wouldn't have to talk to his father or hear any more clever remarks about the disaster of the morning.

But now his dad was gone, off to find the dragon nest no Viking had ever found before. What was this insane quest of the adults? And when had Hiccup started thinking it insane? Just that morning he would have been thrilled with the idea, would have tagged along if he could have. Finding a dragon nest. Finding all those dragons that he could kill and keep for trophies. Right now he should be squirming with excitement of just what his dad would kill on this trip.

But he wasn't squirming with excitement. Hiccup had already tried to kill a dragon. He had failed. Horribly. He had not only failed at killing a dragon, he had failed at ever killing a dragon. It wasn't going to happen now. Nope. No sirree. But apparently he had to. He made the deal, and his dad had walked out, and who knew how long it would be before his dad would return?

As much as he would never admit it, Hiccup didn't really like it when his dad left. True, living in the house with his father was pretty much the same as not having anyone there in consideration of how much they spoke to one another. But at least he could see his dad. At least he knew he was there. At least he could count on his dad showing up eventually.

The axe Hiccup held was heavy. With a groan he let it fall to the floor. Maybe he should go to bed. With any luck, he would wake up and find the entire incident had just been a bad dream. Instead he climbed into his dad's chair and pulled his knees into his chest. The chair was huge. When he was little, he liked to sit in it and pretend he was the chief, but now it just his father's massive, cold, fearsome chair.

Yup, his dad was gone for some length of time. Maybe he would be gone the length of dragon training, or at least until one of them killed Hiccup. Did he have to go to dragon training? Like his dad would know. Actually, he would. Hiccup whined and complained about everything to Gobber habitually, but he had no idea how much of that made it to Stoick's ears. That's how it would go down: Hiccup would back out of dragon training, his dad would return, ask Gobber how Hiccup did, and that would be pure trouble all around.

Hiccup sighed and released his knees. He had to go to dragon training. There was no way out of it. Now what? Go to bed so he could be all well rested for his first day of humiliation? Or was he supposed to be practicing how to take care of himself. But as Hiccup surveyed the room he noticed everything was ready. The fire was stoked hot and ready to go. So Hiccup wasn't trusted to build himself a fire? The water jug was filled to the brim. A basket was filled with fruit and vegetables. If he went upstairs he would probably find an extra blanket folded at the end of his bed. He felt like some pet his dad was trying to keep alive for a few days.

All his dad had said was "Train hard. I'll be back. Probably." What was that supposed to mean? His entire goodbye was officially down to six words.

Up until a few years ago, Hiccup wouldn't have been allowed to stay in the house by himself even overnight. If his dad went on some trip, Hiccup would be shoved off to someone else's house, either Snotlout's where he became a human punching bag, or Gobber's, where he found himself doing even more menial blacksmith chores.

There had been a time before that where Hiccup didn't remember his dad going on any expeditions. Maybe he had, but Hiccup had no recollection of him. It had the years after his mom had died, and Hiccup had hardly been allowed out of his dad's sight.

Then, slowly, more trips out, more times with Hiccup staying with someone else. But the goodbyes had been better. Longer. More words. The first one Hiccup could remember had been after he had been dropped off at Snotlout's house. Snotlout's mom had held Hiccup's hand while she listened to the longest set of childcare instructions Hiccup had ever heard, at that point and after. After that, Stoick had scooped up Hiccup for a bone-crushing hug and to give him a long list of behavioral instructions.

Now it was all down to six words. And two of them had been concerning dragon training.

Dragon training. Oh gods. Staring into the firelight, Hiccup would still see the eyes of that Night Fury, and his heart pounded all over again. The thing had almost eaten him. He should not be alive right now. But he was, in that sick game of fate.

Maybe he should practice. He swung down from the chair and picked up the axe. It was heavier than before. He gritted his teeth and in a few moves was able to get the thing over his shoulder. Axes were swung. He could swing an axe, no matter what Gobber said.

On the other side of the room was a dragon. Invisible and imaginary, but still a dragon. Not the one in the woods, a shot-down Night Fury. Something else. A Monstrous Nightmare. No, no, he wasn't ready for that. A Gronckle? No, not quite. Deadly Nadders always made him think of Astrid, for some reason. He finally settled on a Terrible Terror. Just a little mark on the floor. Expert aiming required. All right. He was more than capable of that! Invisible imaginary Terrible Terror would not be long in the lasting!

He swung the axe.

It felt like it took every muscle in his shoulder with him. The axe remained in his arms instead of being thrown across the room, and Hiccup's body unwilling was dragged along with it until the axe collided with the floor. The immediate floor, no patch across the room. Hiccup's chin hit the floor right after the axe.

Maybe he wasn't ready for an axe yet.

Rubbing his chin and blinking back tears of pain, Hiccup stood up and carefully placed the axe against the stairs. He had a knife. He was good with a knife.

No, no he wasn't. He was terrible with a knife. He had failed today.

He sunk to the floor next to the fire and sighed. Why was this happening? Why did he have to kill a dragon now? Why not this morning? Why not weeks ago? Why did his dad have to leave at this crucial moment of Viking maturity, one for which he clearly was not ready?

Great plan, gods and Dad. Put him in the worst position possible. He climbed to his feet and went upstairs.

The heat of the fire didn't do much of a job of reaching the top floor of the house. All that existed was a single room, Hiccup's bed on one end, his father's bed on the other. Hiccup crawled into his and pulled the covers over his head. Another night alone, the night he really really really needed to talk to his dad. Not that he would have listened.

But the impossibility would have been somewhat less if his dad had actually been there.


	2. Stupidity

**Night Two: Stupidity**

It was late before Hiccup returned home. What a day. He closed the door behind him and sunk to the floor. Who cared about chairs and tables and other wooden furniture that any self-respecting dragon would destroy in a heartbeat? The floor was good enough for Hiccup, and surprisingly comfortable. A good wood had been chosen for the planks of the floor. Not that Hiccup knew what wood or even cared, but right now it was good.

He was not going back to dragon training. Ever. Dragon training was over. He was just going to have to find some way of explaining that to his dad. Yep, that would be a conversation for the ages.

_Hi, son. How were the past few weeks of the dragon training you have been wishing forever for?_

_Hi Dad. What dragon training? _

_You know, the kind that prepares you to take your place as an amazing Viking just like everyone other brawny giant in this village. _

_Oh, that dragon training…_

_Didn't we make a deal? We don't break deals._

_Well, Dad, you see… the first day I was nearly blasted to death by a Gronckle. I know you would have preferred me dead than to see me quit dragon training, but hey, that's that._

Hiccup closed his eyes and breathed in the sawdust smell of the floor. That would be one crazy conversation. He could feel the disappointment from wherever in the sea his dad currently was. Disappointment that his son had spent dragon training curled up in fetal position. Disappointment that his son was now on the floor.

The man could tell everything. It was eerie. Hiccup sighed and stood up. Oh, well. The Gronckle had nearly fried him. He had barely been able to pick up a shield. There had been the way everyone had stared at him in disgust and pity after Gobber had seen fit to rescue him.

What if they all just voted him out? He was pretty sure Astrid would be worth two votes to that effect.

Then there had been the other dragon. Hiccup pulled out his notebook, then realized he couldn't see it. Stupid fire had gone out and… well, Hiccup just wasn't interested in starting another when he could just blindly climb up the stairs and maybe make it to bed.

It didn't matter. He knew what he had drawn. The grounded dragon, the way it had looked at him. If looks could kill.

He knew perfectly well looks couldn't kill. With the way Astrid sometimes glared at him, he would have been dead a dozen times over by now.

Astrid. He wanted to go somewhere really obscure and scream his head off. Dragon training should have been it. The way to prove to Astrid that he was more Viking manliness than she could handle. Impressing her hadn't quite happened during training.

Hiccup was just as broken in the impressing-girls field as that dragon was in flying.

The missing tail came to mind.

Not only had he brought down a dragon, he had accidentally injured it. It would have been cool if it had been intentional.

Like being under the fire of a Gronckle. That would have been cool if it had been in the heat of battling the thing, not in a training arena. He should have been in the wilderness, saving Astrid from a dragon and having it corner him. One awesome burn to show off.

If he had lived.

He still didn't know what to think. The Gronckle had gone for the kill, the Night Fury hadn't.

That didn't mean the Night Fury wouldn't later.

He kind of wished he had down about "going for the kill" before he had been dumb enough to free the thing.

Gods. He was going to die one way or another. By one dragon or another. And Astrid wouldn't even notice he was gone. His face dropped into his hands. He needed air.

He pushed the door open and stepped back outside, hoping no one was watching. Last thing he needed was for all the eyes and ears his dad had certainly left behind to spot him sneaking in and out at all hours of the night. But the night air was cool, refreshing. He could think.

He could handle dragon training. He just didn't have to do anything terribly exciting. Just follow instruction and hang in the back. It was all he needed to do. Nothing more. As for the Night Fury, well, he could solve that problem by ignoring the thing! It was trapped, it couldn't fly out. Therefore, it couldn't get to him.

Problems solved.

He walked down the hill toward the rest of the village. Sometimes living on the hill was embarrassing. Like he needed any more reminders of the discrepancy between himself and the ideal chief's son.

In the moonlight, he could see Astrid's house.

He stopped where he was. What was she doing inside? Sleeping? Sharpening a weapon? Doing something else?

For all he knew, she could probably see him.

He turned and ran home.

How stupid was he being? Very stupid. He recognized that. Normal intelligent people didn't wander in and out of their houses all night. They didn't stare at the houses of the most beautiful girls in the village. They were smarter than that. They at least pretended to be normal.

Hiccup was so glad his dad was not present.


	3. Missing

_Thanks to Duchess Delanie for letting me reference her story events._

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Hiccup decided he really hated dragon training. As it turned out, the entire village was right. He was incapable of it. He was small, he had no idea how to hold a weapon properly, and every other kid in that class could destroy him without breaking a sweat.

Sometimes he seriously feared they would. All he had to do was mess up badly enough, and one of them, probably Snotlout or Tuffnut, would have him twisted and broken before he could say "dragon". Even Gobber just sighed at his attempts and then compliment some old project in the blacksmith stall as if such compliments would make a difference.

Hiccup was grateful he had the house to hide in at the end of the day, though he prayed and prayed that his dad had not secretly hired a number of babysitters to keep an eye on him. That was exactly something his dad would do despite all the speeches of Viking independence and strength. He could come in at dusk, lock the door behind him, and take a much needed breath.

He set to building a fire. When that was happily blazing he set to the next order of business, finding something to eat. Plenty of meat had been dried and stored, and Hiccup had been feeding himself for so many meals for years now.

His dad just wasn't that good at preparing meals. Food was basic to survival. If you wanted to survive, you got food. You didn't wait around for people to prepare it for you.

What was the Night Fury eating? Hiccup hadn't gone there that day. His back ached from training and he still could not shake away the terror he had felt when the dragon had glared at him with those eyes that would have killed him even if the rest of him wouldn't.

Maybe Night Furies liked to play with their food a little. Keep up the chase, and it wasn't like the thing could fly away.

If it could manage to fly out of the ravine, Hiccup knew exactly where it would be going first. With a gulp he glanced at the ceiling. No dragon burning through it yet.

He was being stupid. The dragon couldn't fly, therefore it couldn't get out of the ravine, and there was absolutely nothing to worry about. If it bothered him so much, well, there were plenty of weapons in this house alone. His dad loved weapons and shields, kept them everywhere, in fact. He could still kill the dagon, somehow. Maybe if he threw a sword in there without looking, it would miraculously kill a dragon and Hiccup would not have to feel like a guilty coward about it. Even thinking about that made him sick.

Nothing like this had ever happened to another Viking in Berk. Ever. No one else had shot down a dragon, accidentally marooned it in a ravine, and now constantly thought about it.

He should have never brought out the Mangulator in the first place. It caused such a mess. Gobber was right, it was stupid. A complete waste of time.

And now he was the loser kid with a dragon trapped in the woods. Thor almighty, why did these things always have to happen to him? Was he really thinking that by not visiting the dragon it would magically go away? It would probably die, and then he would be responsible for the carcass of a dragon somewhere.

He wasn't sure he wanted dead.

He sat crosslegged next to the fire and nibbled at dried fish. No cooking for him tonight. What was his dad eating, he wondered. Hiccup didn't even know what supplies these people brought with them on these voyages, his dad had never explained to him the full process. His dad never explained much of anything except what a Viking should act like.

Sometimes he wondered what his mother would think of him. She had died ten years before, and Hiccup was no longer sure what memories of her were real and which were just his own fancy. He just remembered that she had been pretty, drop dead gorgeous. Though all little boys probably though their mothers were the most beautiful. She had been nice. She had sung to him, played with him.

Then had come that spring when everyone had gotten sick including her. Hiccup hadn't been allowed near her, for fear he would get sick as well. He had desperately wanted to lay with her, cheer her up, but his dad had said no. Obviously that had been the best choice, looking back, for a lot of kids had died as well that year.

Still, it would have been nice to speak with her before she had died, not just be informed she was dead and no longer there to take care of him.

Gods as witnesses, Hiccup's dad had very little clues on how to be a parent.

Well, that didn't matter. Things were as they were.

But what had she wanted?

Probably to be a big strong Viking like his father.

He was going to have to return to dragon training.


	4. Repelling

_Sorry for the delay, but the wedding did get in the way. _

_I think my desire to get on the C.O.P.E. course greatly influenced this._

* * *

His dad had always said Hiccup had the attention span of a sparrow. Which was probably true, though Hiccup himself had to admit that he did not always have a chance to observe sparrows before he found himself looking at something else entirely. He was getting better, though; several years before his exasperated father had instructed him in a technique that would hopefully get him to focus on something for an extended period of time. Drawing was a fine technique that had Hiccup so excited over possible results that sometimes ten whole minutes would pass before a distraction came. The necessity for caution and prudence in the forge had also done its job. Hiccup felt he was nowhere near as unmindful as he had been when he was younger and thought his attention span would only increase with age. But his dad just did not see it that way.

It was not as if Hiccup had ever purposely tried to be troublesome. He just couldn't help it. He saw things and when he saw things he liked to stop and look at them. It was not his fault there were so many things to see and so many things to think about. The way he saw it, he was being observant, learning the lay of the land, insignificant details that might prove less so later. Were these not skills that would be useful to a strong Viking warrior? And Hiccup was determined to become the strong Viking warrior that would make his dad proud. But it seemed the harder he tried, the greater the disaster and the more he found himself thinking about something else entirely. A fight would then ensue, Hiccup would do something vaguely rebellious, get distracted…. And thus would go the cycle.

So it wasn't any surprise the new evening found Hiccup gripping rope tied to a loose board on the roof. Even without his dad physically around Hiccup was ever so slightly bitter. It had started in training, when Snotlout had made some snarky comment about how much of a waste Hiccup was as the chief's son. Hiccup was still moody about that by the time he made it home and not having a father around to say anything to the contrary didn't help things. So he had stomped about outside for awhile before remembering how his father had not believed him about the dragon. Which had led to thoughts about the dragon. Which led to a mental argument about whether or not he should go look at it again. But a rainstorm appeared to be coming in and he could just see himself slipping off a wet rock right into that dragon's jaws. Which had prompted him to go inside, during which he had noticed the loose board on the roof. If he fixed that and his dad actually noticed, that would definitely be worth something. Maybe. But a rope seemed to be a good idea. Which meant that five minutes later any repairing was out of mind and he was joyfully dangling fifteen feet off the ground.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most exciting thing anyone in the village had ever done, but a few fierce hops from the roof and right off its edge had to be worth some sort of thrill and affected Hiccup accordingly. It was like something the carpenters and builders in the village would do. Nothing fancy, just part of a hard day's work. Not that blacksmithing wasn't, he sharply reminded himself. But this was new and this was different. And hel if he were not to enjoy the rush and flip of his stomach as the rope slid under his loosened grip and his body plummeted so far before he stopped…

"What are you doing, Useless?"

Oh Thor and all his curses. Hiccup closed his eyes and sighed. Nothing like a voice one did not want to hear when life was for once feeling good.

"Good grief, dude," Snotlout said with a barking laugh. "Did you fall?"

Did he? Here he was, in the rain, dangling from a roof. No other reasonable assumption could be made. Not when it was Hiccup. He let go of the rope and only let the length tied around his waist support him. Maybe that would look a lot cooler. Lazy, breezy, dangling. Nothing big going on. Did this every day. "No, I did not fall." He hated talking to Snotlout. No matter how cool he tried to sound, he failed and managed to draw nothing but more laughter. The bad kind. "No falling here. I was… climbing." How was he supposed to explain jumping off a roof with a rope?

Snotlout stood watching him, pure amusement on his face, his massive arms crossed over his chest and the usual sneer on his mouth. "You climb houses? Hah! Gotta be improvement from trying to climb up the stairs!" He laughed at his own joke.

Hiccup sighed and pulled himself upright. He was getting dizzy anyway and any show of bravery was not working. "Didn't you trip down the stairs before? Several times?" 

It was growing too dim to see if Snotlout blushed or not, but the sneer faded, at least. "I told you, it was a practiced fall!"

"Every time?"

"Yes!" There was a long pause. "Anyway, just wanted to say you climb houses like you fight dragons. Terribly."

Hiccup bit his lip and climbed the rope back up towards the roof. "Thanks for the qualification there."

"What?"

"Never mind." Hiccup grabbed the edge of the roof and pulled himself up. The rain was coming harder now, leaving little puddles here and there where the roof wasn't quite so smooth. Maybe he should just get down and go inside, go to bed, pretend his cousin wasn't there. But turning around revealed that Snotlout had not left his spot.

"Can I try?" Snotlout asked, almost timidly?

Hiccup paused in untying the rope. "Um… sure."

Five minutes later had Snotlout balanced precariously on the roof, with more terror in his eyes than Hiccup had ever seen. Hiccup handed him the rope to tie around his waist. "Afraid of heights?"

Snotlout shook his head. "Do I look like I'm afraid of heights?"

As tempting as it was to contradict him Hiccup resisted. "No. I'm just saying. You look green. Maybe you're coming down with—"

"I can't balance!" Snotlout declared loudly.

"What?"

"I can't balance," came the repetition. "I mean, I can, but it's hard. Really hard. It's inner ear trouble. I can't help it."

"So… you climbed up on the roof?"

"Of course." Snotlout finished the knot with a flourish of loose twine. "I'm not afraid."

Indeed, he didn't look all that afraid. Figured, Hiccup thought. Everyone was braver. And the green had faded from Snotlout's face as he edged toward open space.

"Yeah." Hiccup's voice was bordering on whiney, and he could hear it. He had no right to say that. But he knew perfectly well that in the morning this would all be Snotlout's brilliant idea. That was, if Snotlout found it fun. "You just… fall. Or you can put your feet against the wall. Anything, really."

"Huh," Snotlout said with a snort. "Easy. Totally easy. I'll just—" The sentence ended with a scream five seconds after Snotlout tumbled off the roof's edge, and the snap of a rope might as well have been thunder.

Maybe sometimes it was helpful to be scrawny.

Hiccup looked down to where Snotlout lay in a heap, rubbing his head. "Are you all right?"

Snotlout just glared.


	5. Fishing

**Night Five: Fish**

Hiccup was drenched. Completely entirely to-the-bone drenched and it was a state of being that had not changed during the surprisingly long journey home. He shoved open the door, set down his basket, and watched in mild fascination as a puddle of seawater—nay, an entire sea of it—formed around his feet. Oh, but his boots were going to smell something awful. Cursing his bad luck he lifted up a leg to pull off a boot and promptly fell over, making a distinct sloshing sound as he hit the ground.

He was never going to go fishing again. At least not in the daylight when people could see him. Were they still laughing at him out there? It was hard to be sure when the door was closed. He lay where he was, miserable. He stank and he was cold and wet and certainly very much miserable. So uncomfortable.

He continued the process of pulling off his boots, pausing after each one to watch the flood of water come pouring out of the boot as he tipped it upside down. Then he wiggled his toes. He did have nice feet, though he would rather have nice other qualities. Who cared about feet? Feet had to spend time in wet smelly boots made of fur that chafed against wet feet. So what if untold years before Astrid had once told him his feet were nice? He doubted she thought as much now.

Dragon training was no better. If anything, it was worse and he was going to go down in the annals of Berk as the worst Viking there ever was. As if he already didn't know that. In fact, that very day Astrid had told him quite plainly that he was holding his knife wrong to be fending off a dragon. There it was. There was nothing he could do. He was hopeless.

Well, his feet felt a little bit better and that in turn made him feel better. Maybe he should just take off all his clothes and let the fire dry him. Yeah, that sounded nice. He pulled off his clothing and made a show of wringing the seawater from them. He'd have to wash them now and get out all the horrible salt.

The basket still sat next to the door and he took a moment to take some pride in it. It was a pretty full basket and no one could say that it wasn't. Yes, sir, there were a lot of fish stuffed into that basket and now the whole house smelt like fish. Hmm. Was there no way to avoid nasty smells? Or maybe he was just whining again.

His stomach growled. Maybe he would let himself have fish for dinner.

Oh, who was he kidding? He had caught a grand total of three. Which for him was pretty good. In fact, he had been on quite the role before tripping fro the dock and right into the ocean where he had sputtered and nearly drowned until Fishlegs, of all people, had managed to yank him out. Fishlegs was pretty nice, it seemed. Had yet to say anything negative about Hiccup's performance in dragon training. Had yet to say anything positive.

He would take one fish. Just one. The other two would be special, be saved for… a little project.

He reached into the basket and pulled out the smallest fish he had caught. He wasn't even sure of its name. He had never really liked fishing all that much.

The fire felt wonderful against his bare skin and he sighed with pleasure. Nothing like good warmth after falling into the ocean.

The fish soon began to sizzle.

And then… a knock at the door.

And he was naked.

Hiccup stared at the door in horror. Who would be here at this time of night? Everyone knew his father wasn't home.

The knock came again. "Hiccup?"

The voice belonged to Tuffnut. Why was he here?

"Our mom was worried you weren't being fed properly by yourself," Ruff's voice chimed in. "So she sent us over with some food."

And he was sure they were happy to bring it, he thought sarcastically. Only there was no time for sarcasm. There were his clothes… right by the door in a messy pile.

"Hiccup, are you home?" Tuff called again. Then, in what he was sure were intended to be softer tones to his sister, "He's probably afraid of strangers."

"We're just going to open up and leave it here if you're not home!"

"Just a second!" Hiccup called, springing forward toward his clothes. Who cared if they were wet, he…

"Oh, he is home!" Tuff exclaimed.

The door opened just as Hiccup reached his clothes.

Ruffnut immediately screamed and covered her eyes. Tuffnut avoided his own gaze as he, laughing, handed over a small basket.

"Your… dinner… do… do you do this often?"

Hiccup shook his head. "I fell in the water and…"

Ruffnut, hands still over her eyes, began to laugh. "I am so telling everyone."


End file.
